


the ghost of a hand

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: BDSM, David Rossi Being a Nosy Uncle, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Pining, Protective Derek Morgan, this is actually mostly light hearted I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: On a long plane ride back to D.C., Morgan notices something that fires up his every protective instinct.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 7
Kudos: 259





	the ghost of a hand

Not even a jet can make the flight from San Francisco to D.C. seem brief. In the brief lull between songs, Derek watches the half-asleep agents around the plane. 

JJ's blinks get longer and longer as she watches something on Tara's phone. Emily's third cup of coffee seems to be doing little, given the dead-eyed stare directed towards her torn paperback. Rossi's attempts to bother Hotch from his paperwork are as feeble as Hotch's counters.

Spencer snores lightly, head lolling over to rest on Derek's shoulder. Derek's muscles freeze, the warmth in his chest accompanied by that familiar twist of guilt. 

Tara's eyes, still with the keen curiosity of a newcomer, take note, but she says nothing. He looks away, half a second too fast.

Spencer turns, pushing up his sleeve to itch at his elbow, and all thoughts of sleep leave Derek's mind. 

Just above his elbow, the firm grip of a man's hand has bruised its way onto Spencer's arm. 

His heart races, panic and anger and concern all clouding his head. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to shake him awake, demand the name and address of whoever did this to him, and hunt them down.

But he doesn't. He clenches his fists and grinds his teeth and remains silent for the remaining two hours and eighteen minutes of the flight.

Spencer wakes as the jet's wheels hit the ground, all half-lidded eyes and stiff joints. 

And then the vague hurry of the team grabbing their go bags, of mild conversation and getting off the plane, of the noisy airstrip. It's not until they wind their way into the dimly lit parking garage that Derek has a chance to talk to him.

"Reid," he says, "I thought I saw a bruise on your arm. Are you okay?"

Spencer's eyes close in the expected discomfort, but it comes with a hint of unexpected humor. He covers his mouth and lets out a small laugh. 

"Yeah, Morgan," he mutters into his hand, "I'm good."

"Are you sure? It looked like–"

Spencer blushes. "I'm well aware of what it looks like." He pauses, composes himself. "Let me say this: any current bruises on my body were gained in a..." he swallows, "consensual manner."

Derek blinks. Seven different lines of thought scream in his mind. "Oh," he says.

Spencer grins and shoots him an awkward finger gun. "I've been wearing long sleeved shirts for a reason."

Digging his short nails into his palm, he quiets the chaos in his mind enough to summon an easy grin and a smug tone. "My man! Who's the lucky lady?"

Spencer's fingers tap against his thigh and Derek tries not to mark the motion too attentively. "Yeah, there isn't really one of those." He glances up, eyes wide and nervous, and Derek manages to ignore his increasingly loud internal panic enough to smile and pat Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer's expressive face lights up. "Here's a hint: you've met him."

And with that, he's off, waving goodbye to a trailing Rossi before climbing into the passenger seat of Hotch's car.

Derek slows, trying to process, as Rossi catches up to him. 

He looks Derek up and down and chuckles. "What baffling knowledge has the young doctor granted you today?"

Derek's eyes narrow as the black SUV pulls into reverse. "How long has Hotch been driving Reid home?"

"Since his subway stop was closed for construction, I think."

"Yeah," Derek's gut clenches, "but it's been open again for three weeks."

Rossi shrugs. "Maybe carpooling has proved," he smirks, " _mutually beneficial_."

Derek groans. "Well, I'm gonna go home and bleach my brain. Thanks for that."

As he gets in his car, he knows that dealing with these developments is going to take _much_ more than bleach. 


End file.
